


Maybe We’ll Be Okay

by brb_actualizing_the_self



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 18:39:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19469821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brb_actualizing_the_self/pseuds/brb_actualizing_the_self
Summary: Crowley thought about all the little ways Aziraphale made him feel loved. The light touched when they passed each other. The smiles Aziraphale gave Crowley. The dinners they shared together. The evenings Crowley spent curled up in Aziraphale’s lap.Now they’re gone. Crowley was a fool to think those were actions done out of love. Now he can’t even think of those actions without some sort of breakdown.





	Maybe We’ll Be Okay

**Author's Note:**

> I promise it has a happy ending

Crowley always liked being in Aziraphale’s bookshop. It smelled like a strange combination of cedarwood, thyme, and just a hint of chocolate. Crowley loved the scent, after all, it did smell a tad bit like Aziraphale.

On this particular day, Crowley decided he would wander around a bit. Browsing the books that were supposed to look like they were on sale, but weren’t. He ran his fingers over the ancient novels, feeling the grooves where they’ve been stamped with titles and authors. He stopped at one particular, vast section of books. The Oscar Wilde Collection. It was one of Aziraphale’s most well kept collections. 

“You know, Angel, I’ve always wondered why you have so many original copies of Oscar’s books,” Crowley admired the books. They were beautiful, the books. The pages were yellow with age and looked like parchment. The cover’s colour had gone with the years. So much so that something that once might of been red, is now grey.

“What’s that, Crowley? Oh Oscar! Yes he and I were very close. I do miss him, you know.” Aziraphale was currently dusting the Arthur Conan Doyle section, not too far from the one Crowley was currently in. 

“So you two were friends then? Did you know he was gay back then?” It was a question asked out of genuine curiosity, because Crowley really did just want to know.

Aziraphale stopped dusting and smiled, “Well it would have been a bit strange if I didn’t. We shared a special relationship after all,” he said, as if he was recalling a fond memory. ”But that’s done now, no time to dwell in the past when there are other things to deal with.”

All at once, Crowley felt himself concave in on himself. He needed to get the hell out of there. He needed to run, to run away from Aziraphale’s shop and try not to explode in the process. Crowley fought the urge to sob and instead said, “Oh really? Oh you know what? I just remembered that Hastur wanted to go over some secured souls with me. I’ve got to go, but I’ll catch you later.” And with that poor   
excuse of a conversation, Crowley ran out the door. 

——————————

The door to Crowley’s bedroom nearly broke off its hinges from his force. He rips his sunglasses off and throws them at the wall, shattering the lenses. 

Crowley felt his heart implode on itself like a supernova. Tearing itself apart from the inside then sucking everything else in. He was a blackhole, terrifying and dangerous.   
His lungs burned like hellfire with every gasping breath. Crowley’s tears flowed faster than he could wipe them, wetting his hands and face in failed attempts to hide them. Crowley collapsed onto the ground, unable to hold himself and his sins up anymore. 

Aziraphale, the one person he loved enough to stay, the one person he lived for, the one person he couldn’t bear to live without. He had loved someone else. And it wasn’t Crowley’s gender that was the problem, it was just him. Crowley was the problem. 

Of course Aziraphale didn’t want him, who would? It wasn’t like Crowley was a good person. He had fallen for fucks sake. There was a reason no one loved him. There was a reason Aziraphale had always said that they weren’t even friends.

He was such an idiot! An absolute fool for thinking Aziraphale could have possibly loved someone like him! A demon, a sin, a disgrace.

A mistake. 

Crowley sucked in a shuddering breath. He thought about all the little ways Aziraphale made him feel loved. The light touched when they passed each other. The smiles Aziraphale gave Crowley. The dinners they shared together. The evenings Crowley spent curled up in Aziraphale’s lap.

Now they’re gone. Crowley was a fool to think those were actions done out of love. Now he can’t even think of those actions without some sort of breakdown. 

Crowley dragged his body over to his bed, his body feeling hollow. He didn’t even bother to change his wet clothes as he got into bed, just sitting there in a puddle of raindrops and tears. 

——————————————-

He had slept for 3 weeks before Aziraphale found Crowley.

He had been in and out of consciousness, only waking at random intervals, then falling asleep again. He was still curled up in the centre of the bed in old, wrinkled clothes. 

Crowley was in a particularly deep round of sleep when Aziraphale had nearly kicked the door down looking for him. 

“Crowley? Crowley! Crowley please answer me!” Aziraphale ran around the house, barging into every room in search for Crowley. Aziraphale finally rushed into the bedroom and nearly broke down at the sight.

It was definitely Crowley, but he wasn’t the same. His hair was long and unkempt, and his eyes had dark circles, despite his long sleep. His skin was red and puffy from constant crying, and he looked pained. 

Aziraphale immediately rushed to Crowley’s side, “Oh Anthony.” Aziraphale’s chest wracked with sobs. He held Crowley close, rocking and crying. Aziraphale wasn’t even sure if Crowley was alive, or…

“Anthony please. Please wake up, my dear. Please wake up. Anthony…oh my dear.” Pleas mixed with sobs, desperate for any sort of life. 

Aziraphale knew that an angel’s song could heal the sick, or even bring back the dead. That was for mortals, not celestial beings, but he had no other options. His voice was drenched with sorrow and mourning, and he rang out.

“Lover, I feel your sorrow. Pouring out of your skin. I don't want to be alone. If I end tonight, I'll always be. So take from me, what you want, what you need. Take from me, whatever you want, whatever you need, but lover, please stay with me. I can see you, I can feel. Sifting through my hands. I can taste you, I can taste you. Slipping through my hands. Take from me, what you want, what you need. Take from me, whatever you want. My lover please stay with me.”

Yellow eyes peaked back at Aziraphale. “A.. Aziraphale?” Crowley’s voice was still hoarse from sobbing. Aziraphale’s eyes filled with tears, “Anthony? Oh, My Dear, I should have told you. Oscar and I were very close, yes, but we were friends. You have always been the one person I love the most.”

Crowley shifted so he was sitting upright, “Aziraphale, quit talking. Just kiss me” 

Crowley moved forward, catching his lips with Aziraphale’s own. 

And maybe, just maybe, they would be okay.


End file.
